


Not Ready to Make Nice

by CharmsDealer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Godstiel - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Slash, Screenplay/Script Format, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:29:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharmsDealer/pseuds/CharmsDealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam tries to talk to Dean about Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Ready to Make Nice

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this around the first episode of Season 7 as a way to explore what Dean might have been feeling. At the time, Godstiel seemed like a strange, interesting direction for Castiel. I wondered where Sam would stand in that, and whether Cas as God was such a bad thing. This is really outdated now, as of... well, everything. 
> 
> I tried something new... Apologies for any mistakes, this is my first time attepting something with a screenplay format. I wanted to keep it descriptive so that people could imagine the scene more clearly.

EXT. SINGER SALVAGE YARD - LATE AFTERNOON

 

A half-open garage vaguely attached to the side of Bobby’s house. The mangled Impala is half-covered by a tarp. DEAN is standing in front of a workbench, facing the Impala. He is cleaning his tools, clearly finished work on the car for the day.

His back is to SAM, who approaches the garage cautiously. Sam hovers against one of the support beams before speaking.

SAM  
(Tentatively)  
…Hey

Dean spares Sam the barest glance over his shoulder, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes about the restraint he is exercising. Dean’s movements slow and he keeps his ear bent slightly in Sam’s direction.

DEAN  
Well, look who’s up bright and early. How’re you feeling, Sleeping Beauty?

SAM  
Ah- Good, good. (beat) I mean, you know…

Dean pauses in wiping the grease off of the wrench he is holding.

DEAN  
Yeah, I know.

Dean resumes his work and Sam waits a little longer before asking:

SAM  
Can we talk?

DEAN  
(defensively, a little sharp)  
That depends on what you want to talk about.

Sam waits. His expression is one of compassionate concern. Dean is not looking at him, but has a fairly good idea of what look Sam is wearing. He speaks before Sam can say anything, betraying what’s on his mind.

DEAN  
If it’s about Cas, I don’t want to hear it.

Dean puts the cloth and the wrench down on the table and walks over to the Impala. He begins fussing with the tarp and it FLAPS loudly as he yanks on it brusquely.

 

SAM  
(beseeching)  
Dean, I-

DEAN  
(interrupts)  
Sam. Please.

SAM  
Dean, we have to talk about this.

This time Dean turns his body to face Sam as he passes him. He’s looking around the room for something to do so he can have the excuse not to listen to Sam.

DEAN  
(warning)  
We really don’t.

SAM  
(starting to get frustrated)  
I think-

Dean gives up his search, realising there is nothing for him to fixate on. As he talks, he finds himself subconsciously backing into the Impala so he can lean against the familiar weight.

DEAN  
I know what you think, okay? But how can you, Sam? How could you possibly think there’s a silver lining to all this, huh?

Sam turns his cheek, chagrined. Dean pushes off the Impala and resumes pacing, stalking across the garage with a caged, almost frenzied look about him.

DEAN  
(accusingly)  
When did you decide to go all Team New-God anyway? I thought you were with me on this. You were with us – me and Bobby – you _saw_ what happened.  
(with disgust)  
What he’s become!

SAM  
Dean, this is Castiel you’re talking about- Cas. He doesn’t want to destroy the world, he doesn’t want to break anything. He just wants to make it better.  
(irritated)  
It’s been days, Dean. Hell, it’s been a whole two weeks and he hasn’t come looking for us. Not to hunt us down, not to kill us- or force us to bow.

Dean’s fists clench and unclench. He doesn’t seem to have anything to say.

SAM  
(with more confidence)  
You practically sleep by the radio, but it’s been quiet and-

DEAN  
Too quiet.

SAM  
Would you just let me finish?

Dean looks away.

SAM  
All I’m trying to say is that maybe, we should have faith.

Sam looks pointedly at Dean, leaning forward a little. Dean’s eyes return to him almost shyly. His jaw is still clenched but he looks less angry now and more hurt.

SAM  
Maybe this isn’t as bad a thing as you’re making it out to be. What is honestly so unacceptable about Cas being…well, God? He could actually do some good.

Dean’s eyes harden again.

DEAN  
Sam, he broke your wall. He’s not interested in world peace or any of that stuff. If anything, he looked pretty wrathful to me and you know what happens when angels get their smite on. They don’t fucking care who gets caught in the crossfire.

Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me you forgive him for doing this to you?

Cas _lied_ to us. He lied to me. I _trusted_ him.

Sam reaches out but Dean takes a step back.

DEAN  
(bitterly)  
And what a special snowflake he turned out to be. Look at him now Sam, our little baby in a trench coat is all growed up and pretending to be God.

I mean -where the hell does he get off on just deciding he can suck up a bunch of monster souls from purgatory? He manipulated us. He cheated us.

Dean turns around. He’s ended up where he started, back turned to Sam. He is bent over the work table, palms flat on the surface, bracing himself on it.

DEAN  
(quietly)  
He cheated himself.

Suddenly, Dean’s face contorts into a snarl and he swipes his arm over the desk viciously, sending the tools flying. Sam jumps, startled.

DEAN  
(angrilly)  
 _None of this was supposed to happen!_

Sam is staring at Dean in shock. Unknowingly, he has raised an arm defensively, as if he thinks Dean might turn his rage on him. Dean notices Sam’s stance and his shoulders sag.

I thought he was _different-_

SAM  
(gently)  
Dean, he is different. I think…I think you should give him a chance.

DEAN  
(helplessly, apologetic)  
Sam, I-

Sam looks at Dean questioningly. Dean licks his lips. The words are stuck in his throat. He stares at Sam blankly for what feels like hours, but what is really only a few seconds.

DEAN  
I don’t think I can.

Dean’s expression changes, like he’s been wiped clean. There’s a sudden dullness about him, and his eyes glaze over.

DEAN  
I don’t think I _want_ to.


End file.
